


Midnight

by GuestPlease



Series: Follow the Spokes of the Wheel [6]
Category: Disenchantment (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Beandergast Babes, Clocks don't stop at the same time, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ghosts, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23435842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuestPlease/pseuds/GuestPlease
Summary: Everyone is born with a clock regarding their soulmate. It stops ticking at midnight, when you've found them-- when you feel safe, and loved.Bean's clock stops ticking.Pendergast's does not.
Relationships: Bean | Tiabeanie/Pendergast (Disenchantment)
Series: Follow the Spokes of the Wheel [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551175
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. 00:00 or, Unfortunate

The constant tick of a clock marks everyone’s lives.

Well, up until they find their soulmate, and a moment therein where they fall in love. Where they feel safe, and loved by their soulmate.

It’s easier said than done. Many people don’t find their soulmates. They might be more myth than reality—but Dreamland was a land of myths anyway. And besides, Pendergast, captain of the guard, was a romantic at heart.

Which really had nothing to do with why he was currently hauling the princess back to the castle. Maybe.  
She was currently curled up in his arms, her head on his shoulder.  
“Mm… Pen?” She murmured. “Where are we?”

“Uh… Baker’s Street, I think.”  
She nestled closer to him. “You smell good.”  
“You are _very_ drunk.”  
“You’re not—you’re not all… hard.” She tapped his chest for confirmation.

“Correct, princess.” Pendergast said, trying to remain stoic. What she had _meant_ was that he was out of armor—which was true, he was off-duty. He had been going down to the town proper—because his stupid knights had said he needed to have fun. He was fun! But he had also seen the princess throwing up in an alleyway, so drunk she could barely walk, and it gave him a convenient excuse.

“Did you come _save_ me?” She giggled. “Like a good knight?”  
“I’d like to think I am a good knight, yes.”  
“Sleep tight!” She laughed at her own joke. He cracked a small smile. He loved her laugh— _and this was a very bad line of thought_.  
“Good one.”

“I’m glad it was you.” She slurred. “You’re nice, ‘nd stuff.”  
His heart beat a little faster. “I’m glad it was me too.”  
She snickered. “Y’know, no one’s gonna touch me f’I don’t wanna be touched. I c’n handle m’self.”  
“So you’re fine with me doing this?” He shifted her slightly to make his point.  
She giggled. “ _Don’t,_ I’ll hurl.” She still leaned against him, her breathing slow and sure.

And Pendergast only heard one clock.  
He blinked at her. “Did you find your soulmate tonight, princess?”  
She frowned up at him. “What?”  
He checked his own wrist—and yes, there was the slow movement of the hand towards midnight. It was at eleven fifty, where it had been for the last five years.

“My clock’s still running.” He said.  
She quickly pulled her hand back, and yes—there it was at midnight. She shook her hand and—nothing. Not a sound.  
“So, presumably, whoever it is, they don’t want me carrying you around.” Pendergast said, letting her down gently.

She stared at her clock blankly. “No—I mean—it was—it was at eleven fifty-five earlier! I _saw_ it!”  
“Maybe it was a love at first sight?” Pendergast said gently. “I could help you find them.”

“That’s not how this works!” Bean hissed. “I’m supposed to feel _safe_ and _loved_ and…”  
“You seem a lot more sober.” Pendergast noted.  
“You’d be sober too if your clock stopped working!” Bean said, holding her wrist in her other hand. “Come on, come on—”  
“Princess, stop. You’re going to injure yourself” Pendergast said. “This is a good thing—something to be celebrated. I’m sure whoever it is, they’re perfect for you.”

She looked up at him, then narrowed her eyes. “You don’t… this is so _stupid_.”  
“Princess, this is your god-given match!” Pendergast said. “It is anything but stupid!”  
“Okay, since you know _so much_ —can someone have an unrequited soulmate?” Bean asked, clearly on the verge of panicking.  
“Well, people’s clocks stop at different times…” Pendergast said slowly. “So yes, there is usually a period wherein there’s a disparity—”

“Stop trying to use big words!” She snapped. “Yes or no?”  
“No. Not forever.” Pendergast said, before grabbing her shoulders. “Get a _grip_ , princess! This is a _good_ thing!”  
“You don’t love me back—you’re still ticking!”  
He pointedly ignored the pronouns. She was panicking, and still somewhat drunk, and no doubt getting confused. There was no way _she_ loved _him_.

“Now isn’t forever.” Pendergast said gently. “You need to give it time, and try to let someone feel like you’re invested in them.”  
She glared at him. “Stop saying _them_. You know who I’m talking about!”  
“I really don’t.” Pendergast said.  
Bean’s glare intensified. “You’re fucking— _asshole_.”  
“What did I do?” Pendergast asked, genuinely taken aback.

“You’re not that stupid, Pendergast! You _know_ what I’m talking about! It’s—it’s _you_!”  
He stared at her. There was a pointed silence, which was only broken by his clock ticking.  
“ _Stupid_.” She wiped at her eyes. “I _knew_ this would happen…”  
“Princess…” He took a step forward.  
She took a step back. “No. _No_.”

“To what?”  
“To all of it! I didn’t need you before, I don’t need you now!” And with that, she left him standing there.  
Pendergast loved deeply, and easily. He always thought he’d be the first one to have his clock go when he met his soulmate.

It was unfortunate that he didn’t realize that deep loving is exactly what made her clock go. After all—it’s when you’re safe and loved that your clock is gone. It’s when you’ve found someone that makes you happy. Standing there, in the dark street alone, Pendergast wasn’t happy.

He and the princess avoided the subject. Well, really, it seemed like he avoided him, and he was… fine with that. Really, he was fine. He was fine when their kingdom went to war, and he was fine when he somehow ended up on the same ship as her. He was fine with dying for her—that was his job. He was fine with dying in the field.

He didn’t die. At least, not immediately. He remembered getting a Bozak sword to the gut, but then… he opened his eye slowly. Soft clouds passed overhead.  
“Is this… Heaven?” He rasped.  
She leaned over him then—his angel. “No. We’re stuck here on this island, you and me.”  
He tried to sit up—and unfortunately was reminded of the stomach wound. He pressed a hand to it, and yes, it came away red. He didn’t have much time, it seemed.

His clock hit eleven fifty-five, not that either of them noticed.  
“No one I’d rather be stuck with.” He said, trying to put pressure on the wound. That was when he took in the surroundings. His shirt was torn and seemed to have made a makeshift bandage. They were more or less on a sandbar, with one tree for shade. Oh, good, she’d die here too.

She noticed, of course. “What can I do?”  
“Pull—pull the bandage a bit tighter.” He ground out.  
She undid it, and redid it. His head swam. No, not much time at all—and in the background, that damned _tick-tick-tick_ mocking them both.  
“I’m sorry.” He finally said.

“For what?” She asked.  
“For dying on you before my clock stopped ticking.”  
“You’re not going to die.” She said firmly. “You’re not. I won’t let you.”  
“And who’s going to stop me?” Pendergast asked, before blinking. “…can I lie down again?”

He didn’t really wait for an answer. He more or less collapsed—but he didn’t hit sand. Something soft caught him, and then he realized she was supporting him. She shifted his head into her lap, and tapped his cheek. “What do I need to do to keep you alive?”  
“You should be focusing on yourself—”  
“Tough shit.”  
Eleven fifty-six.

“I’m serious, there’s not much to this… island. Even if I was at the peak of health, I’d still tell you to keep all the resources here for yourself.”  
“I am. I’m keeping _you_ for myself.” Bean said, still deathly serious.  
Pendergast cracked a small smile. Eleven fifty-seven.  
“It could be days before we’re rescued.”  
“I can wait.”

Eleven fifty eight.  
“Do you have anything to drink?”  
She pulled a flask out from her boot.  
“Keep it.” He said.  
Instead, she uncorked it, and _yes_ he knew he should keep it for her, but he was so damn thirsty. He drank. Eleven fifty-nine.

“You’re my soulmate.” She said softly, recorking the flask and tucking it away.  
“But you’re the princess, you should be kept safe.”  
“Dreamland might be _gone_ , Pendergast. It’s just you and me now, and we’re both getting out of this.”

His vision began to cloud. “Alright… Bean.”  
Midnight. His watch stopped ticking.  
“I love you.” He said softly.  
“I know.” She said, running a hand through his hair. He imagined it wasn’t very pleasant, full of sand as it was. “I did some reading. …I love you too, you know?”

He smiled, pausing to listen. “Yeah. I do.”  
And then was when he fell unconscious, blood still seeping through his bandage. How unfortunate, for both of them.


	2. 1:00 or, Fortunate

There are many endings to many stories. Some people found their soulmates. Others did not.

I would like to tell you that they were rescued, and lived out their lives with each other. That is not that story.  
I would like to tell you that it was all a dream, or better yet, a play. A story played out in front of you, and really, it’s all okay. They get up and bow and look, no one was hurt. This is not that story.

Sir Pendergast Llewellyn Griffiths succumbed to his wounds on that island. He is with the crabs now—coconut crabs, which proceeded to eat his corpse after Princess Tiabeanie Mariabeanie de la Rochambeau Grunkwitz succumbed to dehydration. She is also with the crabs now.

It has been many years since King Derek I ascended to the throne of Dreamland, since the sandbar was found, and their bones recovered, and she was buried in the royal crypt. No one but King Derek knew what happened to the knight’s bones. Old King Zog had had a statue of them made when they were lost at sea—maybe King Derek did something with the knight’s bones there. Maybe they were mixed together in the crypt. No one knew. No one really cared.

I was on my way home, way past the last bell. My mother always said to be home by the last bell, or the ghosts would get you. I was young, foolish. I didn’t believe in ghosts. I saw a girl sitting at the base of the statue, and slowed. “Need any help?”   
She looked up, blue eyes watery. “Can-can you help me find him?” I wish I had known that the royal crypts ran under the town.

“Find who?”   
“Pen. _My_ Pen.” She wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand.   
“Uh… where’d you last see… him?” I asked, sticking my hands in the pockets of my coat.   
She scoffed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. I can’t _find_ him. I look every night and he’s just… he’s not there. He’s supposed to be here!”

I stepped back. “Um… maybe… he’s looking for you? Maybe you should wait by the statue of the princess and the knight, and… he’ll come for you.”   
She looked up, seemingly not have noticed where she was. “I’m always waiting for him…” She muttered, before standing up and stepping back from the statue. I didn’t notice how her boots made no sound on the cobblestone.

She stared at it like she’d never seen the statue before. I don’t know how she hadn’t. It showed a knight, ready to strike, and the princess—King Derek’s sister—ready to shoot a bow. Back to back, her grinning slightly, his reflection in the steel of the sword. It was a good statue.

“Bean!” Someone called. We both turned.   
My mother had worked in the castle when the princess had gone missing. I guess they were friends or something, because she named me Bean too. But whoever this was, they weren’t here for me. The man with the eyepatch ran over to the girl, and picked her up, spinning her. White hair flared around her, and she laughed. “Took you long enough! I’ve been waiting _years_ to see you again!”

“I was never gone.” He said—and I assumed this was her Pen. I _hoped_ it was her Pen, I didn’t want to be caught in the middle of it if it wasn’t. I turned to go home, then stopped, pausing in the alleyway.   
“Where were you?” She asked.   
“Looking for you.” He replied softly. “I just missed you every time, huh? Makes sense.”   
“What, you’re always late?” She laughed.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Sure, let’s go with that.”   
She grinned at him. “Dork.”   
“Your dork, princess.”   
“I missed you.” She admitted, before lacing his fingers with hers. “Come on, let’s make up for lost time, _soulmate_.”

Oh thank god. Everyone’s safety assured, I was about to turn again when I noticed that they were gone. To this day, I know of no other explanation for how they left so quickly and quietly than the truth; they were the ghosts my mother warned me about. They say that ghosts still stalk the streets of Dreamland. Sometimes that one is in armor, sometimes they’re caught in the middle of a battle, sometimes they’re just walking together.

I personally have never been bothered by them. I see no reason to be bothered by _those_ two at least. They’re fortunate, in a way. Not many can say that their bond with their soul mate was so strong that death gives them another chance. Or at least, that it thought they deserved it, to make the bond stronger in the first place. Fortunate indeed. And so am I. The ghosts of Dreamland have never plagued me, even when I go walking after midnight.


End file.
